


Shameless

by itstonedme



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M, Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:45:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstonedme/pseuds/itstonedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Orlando and Elijah take in a screening of <i>Shame</i> starring Michael Fassbender and then discuss its artistic merits.<br/>Written for the <a href="http://orlijah-month.livejournal.com/175908.html">Road Trip</a> prompt, Orlijah_Month, January 2012.  Special guest is Michael Fassbender's now famous celluloid member.  </p><p>Disclaimer: A work of fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shameless

"Fuckin' scary." Elijah is flicking the wheel of his lighter before he and Orlando have even passed through the exit doors of the cinema and onto the sidewalk. 

"I _know!_ " Orlando agrees, batting him on the arm and beckoning with his chin for Elijah to share the pack. "Did you see the size of it? It's a bloody monster."

Elijah stops and fixes Orlando with a zombie gaze. "I was talking about his acting, you goof. He has you, me and about ninety percent of SAG blown out of the water." 

"I know what you meant," Orlando agrees a little defensively. "What's with these Germans anyway?" There, that should show Elijah that he's been keeping up with his _Screen Dailies._

Elijah pulls the lighter away from where Orlando has tipped forward for a light so that he can get his attention. "It's a good thing your cheek bones can still cut glass, Bloom. Because he's fuckin' Irish."

Orlando grabs Elijah's forearm to steady the flame, dragging a light that illuminates those very cheekbones to tabloid perfection. "I knew that," he says on the exhale. 

They each turn up their jacket collars against the West Hollywood December night chill and walk the half block to where Orlando's SUV is parked. It's been months since they've seen each other. Okay, maybe it's been years. Orlando has married during that time and spawned the world's most beautiful baby. Elijah has hit the singles market once again. Yet despite these changes, they both would consider it remarkably comfortable -- if they were inclined to talk about it, which they aren't – how they can slide back to being the barely adult young things they were when they first met.

"I don't know if I could do that," Orlando resumes, chirping the car alarm and unlocking the doors.

"What?" Elijah says as he opens the passenger door. "Act?"

Orlando will forgive Elijah this, only because it's coming from someone who's pretty much been in the same boat for the past half decade. "Look at my face," Orlando says under the fade of the dome light once they've climbed inside. The outside edge of both brows drop into angelic curves, and little peaks form between his widened eyes. "You know what this is? Frodo begging Faramir to spare poor Gollum. You know what this is?" His expression doesn't change. "That kid in _Hooligans_ with a credit card in his gob. You know what this is?" No change. "Ryan wondering why Wilfred has a shit smear on his nose. You know what…OW! Heh!" He gloves Elijah's fist on its second swing to stop it from pummeling his shoulder again.

Elijah's good-humoured grin quickly transforms into a vacant stare. _"'Something stirs in the east!'"_ he stage whispers. _"'The eye of the enemy is moving', and did I just look into the camera?"_

In a flash, Orlando has pulled the hand he's gripping across his chest, dragging Elijah over the console and straight into a headlock. "I'll never forgive Pete for not reshooting that," he laughs, scrubbing at Elijah's squirming scalp. He glances out the window and releases Elijah reluctantly, straightening up while Elijah gets in the parting shot and reseats himself on the passenger side. They've not been bothered by paparazzi tonight, but that doesn't mean they're not out there. He turns and sinks the key into the ignition.

"I don't know if I could parade my junk in public like that," he says as the ignition catches. "Could you? I mean, would you have pulled your little Stooge out if you'd landed that Iggy biopic?"

"First, let me remind you that my Stooge is hardly little." 

Orlando snorts.

"And yeah, maybe. If the part called for it, yeah, maybe."

"Wonky ball and all?"

"Fuck that. You bet. I'm proud of that gonad."

Elijah knows the game they're playing. Too much has changed for them to pick up where they left off, or rather, from where they once were. But it's not something each of them wants to forget either. It's part of who they are. So they'll play a little verbal footsie on the topic of cocks because it's a little bit safe and a little bit not.

"You are so full of shit," Orlando laughs as he shoulder checks and pulls away from the curb. "If I recall, you asked that the set be closed when you had to film topless for Cirith Ungol."

"Gimme a break. I was eighteen and feeling soft around all you manly men."

Orlando shrieks. "You were such a girl about it!" 

"Hey," Elijah retorts. "A-listing had its privileges."

"You were shy about having to show your little boy titties, so pale and...flat."

Elijah decides it's time to up the ante. He stares out the front window, smiling. "Titties I recall you latching onto without a problem, you fucking pedophile."

Orlando glances over, eyebrows raised and smirk in place, and Elijah glances back in kind. _There, saw you and raised you,_ the look says. They both turn back to watching the headlights eat up the road that leads to the coastal highway. Elijah pops the MP3 into the player and launches the music.

"I suppose having ten inches makes it an easier decision," Orlando says after a bit.

"Oh Jesus," Elijah winces with a guffaw. "Are we back to Fassbender's cock? Let me call Viggo so he can fix you two up on a date. And it's hardly ten inches, by the way."

"Come on, it swung like Dumbo's trunk!" Orlando exclaims. "Eight then."

Elijah's wheezing with laughter. "Dumbo's _trunk?"_ he sputters.

"I mean, can you imagine that coming at you?"

"Um, yes please?" Elijah says. 

Oh. 

_Fuck, yeah._

Orlando glances at him sideways. The thought of Elijah anywhere near that cock has just projected onto his mental movie screen and caused his gut to curl. "You wish," he says. 

"Maybe," Elijah smiles, eyes still on the road ahead. He licks his lips. He knows Orlando's watching him.

Orlando shifts in his seat, spreading his legs a little. "What would you do with it?" he asks quietly. _Game on._

Elijah looks at him. "You mean, what would I do with _Michael?_ "

"Okay," Orlando says, wiping a finger across his upper lip. "What would you do with Michael?"

Elijah doesn't reply at first. He reaches for the volume knob, turning the music down. When he sits back. one hand falls between his legs. "I'd want to make sure he couldn't use his hands on me," he says, "so I'd tie them to the headboard, leave him sitting there, back up against it."

Orlando nods once and stares at the road ahead. 

"He's got a fucking hot stare. I figure without use of his hands, his eyes would be lasers."

"Killer eyes," Orlando agrees, just a little breathless now. He's quite comfortable with this dirty talk, in the absence of what once was, that is. Quite comfortable.

"I'd straddle his thighs. I'd unbutton his shirt and push it off his shoulders. Then I'd unzip him and take him out." Elijah's fingers fall to his own zipper, fingering the pull tab, slowing sliding it downwards. Orlando hears the cool whisper of metal teeth giving way, and his eyes dart sideways, then back to the road.

"Jesus, Lij," Orlando swallows. Okay, talking dirty is one thing. But Elijah is crossing Orlando's line.

Elijah settles his ass deeper into the leather seat and tips his head against the highback, lips parting. He unbuttons the waist band of his jeans, and digs inside, pulling his cock out, using his other hand to push the denim down and away.

"It would be heavy, man, heavier than mine because there's just so much of it, you know?"

Orlando's eyes dart down to Elijah's crotch again, the glow from the dashboard illuminating the half-hard penis Elijah is cradling in his palm.

Orlando is getting uncomfortable, both physically from the trapped tightness in his jeans and from the direction their conversation has taken. "I don't know, man," he says. "Maybe you should put it away."

"But he wouldn't be hard," Elijah murmurs, bull-dozing right through Orlando's warning. "Cock like that's going to need a little action to fill it up."

The index finger of Orlando's left hand, the one on the wheel at about eleven o'clock, begins to tap. Orlando looks straight at the road, saying nothing.

Elijah's head rolls along the highback towards him. "Is that what you want, Orli? You really want me to tuck back in? It's just me, it's just acting, it's just a movie. All you have to do is listen. But I'll stop if you want me too. You still want me to stop?"

Orlando gusts through his nose once, lips pressed together. Seconds pass in silence, then finally he glances over. "So would you take it in your mouth?"

The side of Elijah's lips that is hidden from Orlando curls upwards. 

"I'd want to. But I might actually have that look of horrified fear on my face that you were showing me ten minutes ago."

Orlando barks out a laugh and looks over and sure enough, Elijah's frightened Frodo face is staring back at him. Paired with the cock in his hand, Orlando laughs so hard, he snorts.

"Oh, class act," Elijah laughs. "How am I supposed to jerk off to Fazzie's junk now? Look, you've made me wilt."

Orlando looks. There's no wiltage going on down there; it's the opposite, if anything. He glances back up at Elijah.

"Caught ya," Elijah grins as Orlando looks back at the road, grinning. "So where were we?"

"Your mouth, his dick."

"His legs wouldn't be tied. He'd know the game. He couldn't touch, but that doesn't mean he wouldn’t cooperate. So I'd be between his legs, and he'd be in jeans, knees bent, cock out and in my hand, laser gaze. And he'd tell me to lick it."

Orlando's spine straightens a fraction, eyes full on the road.

"And so I would. I'd bend over, lips wet, and slide them over the head, which is uncut, you saw, just the head, and he'd hiss because it felt so fucking good." He brings his hand to his mouth and spits into the palm and then takes his cock in hand and begins to work himself.

"And I'd use both my hands and they'd be lubed, slippery, pulling, getting that frigging animal to grow because it would be awesome fully erect, straight, as thick as my wrist. Just the thought of it coming anywhere near my ass should terrify me."

Orlando's hand falls to his lap. He stretches his left leg out a bit and adjusts himself. Eijah's eyes follow the motion.

"And he'd be staring down at me, telling me to look up at him, telling me to take as much as I could. But I wouldn't be able to go right down on him. If I could even manage five inches, he'd be grateful."

A memory of Elijah taking Orlando's own cock to the root flashes in Orlando's mind. "Yeah, he would be," he tells Lij and squeezes himself.

"Are you hard, Orli?" Elijah asks. "Am I going to have to send you home to your wife with your cock poking holes in your jeans?"

Orlando glances over. "You just might. Not that she'll mind. So you've got his enormous dick all primed and ready and now what?"

"Well, I've obviously got to get naked. At least from the waist down."

"That's true."

"So I'd back off the bed and stand at the foot of it and peel off my jeans, underwear. I'd have a long sleeved jersey on, but I wouldn't take it off. Wouldn't want to show him my little boy titties."

Orlando gusts a laugh. "Nothing the matter with your boy titties."

"I know that. I just like the image of half naked I've got going. Stripping just enough to fuck."

Orlando inhales deeply. "Yeah," he says. They've passed a well-lit turn off that leads to the right, proceeding straight ahead along the moonlit coast.

"I'd bring out the lube and lift one foot onto the end of the bed, get myself ready while we stare at each other. He'd be talking dirty, I think, telling me exactly how far up that giant cock is going to go, that I better work myself good if I plan on coming anywhere near it. He doesn't know that I've been preparing myself for him for weeks, that I've been stretching myself with dildos just to get used to the burn and displacement."

"Kinky fuck," Orlando says, "but wise."

"Absolutely. Once I was good and wet, I'd walk back across the bed towards him on my knees, scooping his big prick into my well-lubed hands, getting him good and ready. We'd kiss while I was doing that, I think, my tongue shoving into his mouth to show him what I was wanting." Elijah's voice hitches as the thought spikes his cock, and he goes quiet for a moment, eyes closing while he fists himself more vigorously. "Jesus, Orli," he groans.

Orlando glances over. Elijah has slid further towards the door, thighs splayed towards him, eyes hooded and intent on Orlando's own flushed gaze. 

"Keep your eyes on the road," Elijah breathes. "Just listen. I'd hold him steady when it's time to sink down on him," Elijah grinds out, and the slick slapping of his hand on his cock climbs over the music coming through the speakers. "It doesn't come easy. I'd have one hand on his shoulder, the other holding him steady, and our eyes would be locked together, inches apart, breath gusting over each other's faces while I try to take him in, even an inch, even to just get him to breach."

Orlando squirms at the thought.

"But I open and I take him, and it's both painful and exquisite, and he's grimacing in gorgeous agony right into my face, not saying a word, because I am so tight around him that he thinks he's being strangled from the cock up. Oh. Oh _shiiiiittttt."_

Orlando looks over and down, and Elijah is coming over the fingers of his stroking hand and into the palm of his other hand. He reaches down and springs the console and pulls out a baby wipe, handing it to him.

"Thanks," Elijah gasps, taking it limply, then laughs. "Bless Pampers."

"Yeah, they're the cavalry some days, always to the rescue." They are travelling more suburban streets now, and Orlando is navigating turns. "How are you doing?" he says after a half minute of silence passes during which Elijah has wiped himself and tucked back in. "Garbage is right there," he indicates with his chin to a bag clipped below the dash. "I'll take care of it."

"I'm doing fine, actually," Elijah replies with a grin. "How are _you_ doing?"

"You prick."

"Excellent orgasm, by the way," Elijah adds smugly. "Whose idea was this anyway?"

"Yours, probably. As usual."

They're not far from Elijah's house, only a couple of blocks that are marked off by stop signs. They both know that Orlando can't come in – he's due home. It doesn't matter. The fact that they've both been able to grab a bite before the show and share some time has been enjoyed sufficiently.

"Give my love to your wife," Elijah says, going for the door handle once they've parked at the curb.

"No, I think I'll be giving _my_ love to my wife."

"Lucky girl, smart ass," Elijah says affectionately. He leans over and they kiss lightly on the lips as old friends do, and he pats Orlando's cheek. "I'm coming to see your boy," Elijah announces as he opens the door. "Before he graduates university or something."

Orlando grimaces and shrugs apologetically, but Elijah has held up his hand. "I know, man. No need to explain. You've had a crazy year. But I'll be calling you within a few weeks to make this happen. Oh, and remember: Fassbender – he's fucking Irish."

"Yeah, yeah," Orlando scoffs good-humoredly, dismissively. He watches while Elijah closes the door and walks up the walkway, waiting to make sure Elijah has unlocked his front door before he pulls away with a sharp departing honk.

Elijah doesn't even make it halfway into the hall before he's pulled out his phone. He checks for messages and opens one after noticing who sent it. It's a picture of a big limp dick.

Elijah presses the keypad. _Seen that 2 many times tonight already._

The reply comes. _Did u like it?_

Elijah texts, _U were brilliant. Bastard._

The reply comes: _When will u be here?_

_On my way,_ Elijah replies and pockets his car keys.


End file.
